Lie To Me
by Meggory
Summary: Before Sirius is sent to Azkaban, Remus comes to visit him. Now Complete! Mild slashiness, and don't say you weren't warned.
1. The Prisoner

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, nor am I making profit from them. If I was, I would be able to pay my own damn tuition.  
  
Author's Note: Ah, my sweet return to fanfic after a two-year hiatus. Of course, I was writing X-Files and Stargate back then. This is my first Harry Potter fic, and my first slashy-type. Yay trying new things! All comments are welcome, because if I can take the criticism of my Literary Theory professor, I can take anything. Rated PG-13 for mild slashiness, because you can never be too careful.  
  
Lie To Me  
  
by Meggory  
  
Every time the water dropped onto the smooth cement floor, the tiny brown spider twitched; every time the spider twitched, Sirius' fingers jumped with surprise--at least, they had for the first hundred times. Now it was just automatic, like wincing at the sound of the guard's boots as he paced the hall outside the cell.  
  
No, wait, those weren't the guard's boots. Softer, gliding, and eternally familiar, they stopped at the bars, waiting patiently. No, hesitantly. Nervously. Sirius could smell the emotion, and it nearly choked him. He had to break the silence. Without moving off the hard bunk, he said quietly, "Hello, Remus."  
  
A long, struggling pause ensued before the visitor replied. "Sirius.... A-are you--"  
  
"No, I'm not all right. They're sending me to Azkaban in the morning. Although I don't know why the Aurors didn't take me there right after the Wizengamot's ruling."  
  
"I asked Dumbledore to arrange it. An appeal to their mercy," Remus told him, his voice so quiet anyone else would have missed it. "He had to call in a lot of favours."  
  
"Remus," Sirius whispered as he pushed himself up and willed himself to face his werewolf. The young man looked, for the first time in his life, like a complete and utter wreck. Not even after his transformations did he appear so haggard and on the verge of a breakdown. His tawny hair was tangled and uncombed, his robes wrinkled as though slept in, and his eyes--his eyes, always so lively and expressive and serious--were hollow pools of the darkest despair. He looked worse than the man about to be sent into the Dementor's care. "Remus, when was the last time you slept?"  
  
"Sleep? What's that?" he said, attempting a laugh, but it came out as a sob. "Oh, gods, Padfoot--"  
  
"Don't, Moony, don't. Please. Could we just sit and bask in my glory?" Sirius said wryly, and he swore the corner of Remus' mouth turned upward. He blinked, and it was gone.  
  
"That's not funny," he admonished, sounding the prefect he had been. "Sirius, tell me you didn't kill Peter."  
  
The words struck Sirius' heart like a serrated blade, and it took all his strength to not fall on his knees and tell him everything. He wanted to scream his innocence, become Padfoot and howl to the moon his desire for freedom. Instead, he asked, "What do you think?"  
  
Remus looked at the floor, as though he'd been expecting the question. "I don't know. I really don't." His hands, pale and too thin, were trembling violently. "First James and Lily, and poor little Harry, and Voldemort; now this. Sirius, we should be celebrating. We should be out watching fireworks, and drinking ourselves silly, and dancing until after sunrise. We should be planning our friends' wake, and taking care of their son. Your godson, Sirius." Another sob racked his throat. "I cannot believe you did this. I know you wouldn't betray them as their Secret Keeper."  
  
It was Peter, Sirius mouthed silently, but Remus wasn't watching. "But if you didn't tell, how did Voldemort find them? Sirius?"  
  
The prisoner rose and approached the dungeon bars, only to find tears streaming down Remus' sunken cheeks. "Oh, Remmie," Sirius soothed, slipping his hands through the bars and cupping the smaller man's face. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry to put you through this, and I'm sorry you'll face this alone."  
  
Remus turned his face into the palm of Sirius' hand and kissed his fingers. "Tell me you didn't do this. Lie to me, Padfoot."  
  
"I didn't kill Peter, and I didn't betray James," replied Sirius, and instantly knew he had spoken too quickly. His heart was breaking, ripping apart in agony, but it was the only way. "I didn't kill Peter with the Avada Kedavra, I didn't tell Voldemort where James and Lily were hiding, and I've never been a Death Eater." I cannot lie to you.  
  
"How could you, Sirius? You betrayed your best friends, and you betrayed me!" Remus managed to choke out.  
  
"Don't you know that everything I say is a lie," said Sirius harshly, inwardly regretting every second of this meeting. Remus pulled back roughly and spat, although his eyes were still bright with unshed tears.  
  
"So you never loved me?"  
  
"No." Oh, gods, yes. Yes, I love you, Remmie, and you know it. Come on, see through me, through this charade.  
  
"Maybe the Dementors aren't such a horrible fate for you after all. Goodbye, Sirius." With that, Remus Lupin hurried out of the dungeon without any backward glances. Sirius watched him leave, and found the courage to yell, "Look in my dress robes!" The footsteps never slowed.  
  
The last son of the House of Black, finding his face wet and his body shaking, lay down to listen to the quiet drops of water and watch the little brown spider build her web. 


	2. Selfish Games

Author's Note: I decided to offer this little sequel from Remus' point of view, with mostly angst and just a touch of fluff that leads to more angst. Angsty goodness. Thanks to all my reviewers, even if they didn't like Oh well, I love them anyway. And I could love YOU too, if you review.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's sad, but true. The exchange-value of this commodity is zero, according to the Marxists.  
  
  
Lie To Me: Selfish Games  
  
By Meggory  
  
  
Time, while seemingly creeping by, was approaching far too quickly. According to the clock on the wall, Remus had only half an hour to dress and make himself presentable before Apparating to the wake. As he sat on the cold floor in front of the broken mirror, he gave a halfhearted sardonic laugh. Somehow he doubted anyone would be expecting him to appear decently dressed and wearing a stiff upper lip, given the circumstances.  
  
Suddenly the remaining shards of the mirror chimed, D...be late, but Remus wasn't listening. Slowly he rose and approached the closet, taking a deep breath as he pushed it open. He began to rifle through the shabby, disorganized robes in search of his black dress robes. Maybe they were at the back.... He pulled a hanger off the bar and wrestled the clothing out of the cramped space, only to realize the robes he held were meant for a taller man.  
  
They belonged to Sirius.  
  
It wasn't just the length or cut. His werewolf nose could smell Sirius on the fabric like an indelible mark--warm and spicy, like sandalwood, and something distinctly Sirius, unlike anything else in the world. The last time he had worn this garment was as the best man at James' wedding. In fact, there was a tiny smudge of cake rubbed in at the collar, for which Remus knew he was directly responsible.  
  
Wait. Hadn't Sirius said something about his robes? On the inside, Remus found a small pocket and stuck his hand into it. Withdrawing a piece of expensive parchment, he lay the clothing gently aside on the bed and unfolded his discovery.  
  
It was an invitation to James' and Lily's wedding. The elegant silver ink stared up at him for a few moments before it shifted, like graceful ribbons, into new words:  
  


Sirius Black and Remus Lupin  
would like to present themselves  
in the bonds of marriage  
to be held on the first day after the defeat of Voldemort  
in the Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade  
at one o'clock  
Reception to follow at the Potters' residence, five o'clock  
  


_Oh, Gods, Sirius_. And yet, the first thing that came to Remus' dry lips was, The Three Broomsticks? How classy.  
  
And then it hit him, like an impossible and indestructible weight upon his chest. Had everything--anything--gone the way they had wished, today would be the day written on Sirius' invitation. Instead of going to his best friend's funeral while his lover was shipped to Azkaban, Remus Lupin would be facing the happiest day of his long and miserable life.  
  
Goddamnit, Sirius, why are you doing this to me? Don't you think I'm having enough trouble with this whole fucking mess? You know what this is? It's one of your selfish games. You can't possibly live with the idea of me not loving you, so you make it impossible for me to hate you with a stupid stunt like this-- he realized he was screaming at the limp dress robes, hands poised to rip the enchanted parchment in half, likening to his heart as it cleft in two.  
  
You really did lie to me, didn't you? You thought this would prove to me that you were being honest, that this would tell me how you could never lie to me! I know better now. He stood for a moment in shock before his knees gave out on him. He fell heavily to the rough carpet and buried his face in his hands. Sirius' invitation fluttered to the floor as he sobbed with so much force it hurt his ribs.  
  
From the fireplace, a chime interrupted him. Wiping his eyes on his sleeves, he called thickly,   
  
Dumbledore's grave visage appeared in the flames. Coming, Remus?  
  
Yes, Albus. I will Apparate shortly.  
  
Very well. Dumbledore disappeared, and Remus slowly pushed himself up. Taking out his wand, he pointed it at the closet and murmured, Accio dress robes.  
  
He dressed mechanically and glanced into the mirror shards before he prepared to leave. His red-rimmed eyes fell upon the invitation once again. With unfathomable rage and despair, he picked it up and flung it into the fire. His face ashen and far too old, he Disapparated with a pop.' He doubted he would ever be happy again.  
  
The invitation charred slowly at the edges, blackening until it was a tiny, indistinguishable pile of ashes.  
  
Fin


End file.
